Silence, Thinking, and Moving
by rainbowthefox
Summary: What if the Skin Taker was in a dark room alone in a straight jacket? What would he think about? My version of the Skin Taker from Candle Cove. No pairings, fan characters, lemons, etc. Contains mild cursing, though. Told from Skin Taker's P.O.V. Epilogue now added.
1. Chapter 1

...

...

Silence.

It was the only thing contained in the room. Or for at least my comfort. No lights had been turned on, leaving it pitch black. Also to my comfort. Normally someone would want some noise going and the lights on to get rid of any tension, but it was quite unnecessary, if you ask me. Sometimes a little silence is required for thoughts.

Thinking was good, yes. It's like a little conversation with your mind, only you're talking mainly to yourself, or your conscience. Either is rather disturbing and you'll find yourself answering towards things you lie to. Would it count as a lie to lie to a lie? Honesty and truth showing no prevail towards hatred and anger?

Those were just of the few things silence can make you think about. A lot of others, too. Confusing, yes. Understanding, not quite. You're constantly focused on more of your surroundings than of your inner thoughts. When silence comes, you're nothing but a victim towards the ideas you can get.

Thinking was good, indeed. Ideas were good, yes. Doing strange things was good...

Yes?

Being in a cornered room in a straight jacket was good, yes? Quite comfortable. Quite settling. It's just like feeling at home, except you're far from there anymore. In fact, I don't quite remember my home. And neither does anyone in this world, for that matter.

I remember their reactions when they first saw me. _Is it human? Is it alive? Does it have feelings?_

It.  
It.  
It.

They are so stupid. When you first see me, I'm just like you, only on the inside. But they're all far to naïve to believe that. What I am supports them. What I used to be is _them._ I'm only as human as they are.

And they are far from human.

Sadly, they carry the same traits as any "normal" human. They're curious, they choose their beliefs over facts, they're selfish, cruel, greedy, stubborn, etc. All can be proved, and I have gathered enough information to provide so.

Through the silence, I learned that humans tend to be naturally selfish. If they fall in love with something or someone, they want them all to themselves, and if they see someone else have them, they're protective. But what really makes them selfish is their fears.

Fear.

I learned that the top fear of humans is death. It's rather silly, yes. It's all expected the moment they can walk. They're born, they live, and they die. It's all a repeated pattern that everyone is used to and expects. So what in the world would make them afraid of something they expect?

It's unexpected. That's what they expect.

That a meteor would come out of nowhere and kill them, that they'd be shot, all the unexpected. Anything can happen at any time. Most humans choose to believe that they will die of the aging process. That's expected, but yet they choose to be afraid when the time comes and they _expect_ it.

They really cannot change their minds. Unexpected or expected? If it's unexpected, they are unafraid because it is not expected. If it is expected, they're dead afraid of being, well, dead. They become selfish and would do anything to prevent it. Hell, they'd even turn on their own brother just to save their _skin._

I smirked at that word. _Skin._ It was one thing I didn't have and they did. They all took it for granted, using it every day without even knowing. It's the one thing that protects them and keeps them alive, but yet they take it for granted, acting as if everyone had it.

And, well, they all did.

Except for me. I used to have it, but that's a different story. It was truly a shame, seeing how everyone was oblivious to the fact that what they unconsciously use should not be taken for granted. It was silly, yes. Quite presumptuous.

Great, now I'm using long words. A few more years in here and I'll be going mad. Oh, wait, apparently I already have, just like everyone else. I could leave if I wanted to, just like how I came here. It's easy. Just a little flick with my cape and-

Oh, wait, that's gone, too.

Hell, even they took my signature top hat. No one will recognize me in a straight-

Wait, yes they would. It's where I belonged to them. Locked away and hidden from humanity. Of course, I couldn't blame them. Humanity was boring. I'd rather prefer a land where people would scream bloody murder and the air would be hidden by the mist of blood.

Now, THAT was where I belonged.

But, _nooo_, I was "deranged." I was "insane." What I did and still do isn't "proper," or, "normal."

I rolled my eyes, their words flashing in my mind. Darkness was still in my vision, and I rather enjoyed it. Peaceful, yes. They were ignorant, knowing other people did the same thing I did.

Skinning people alive is common, yes?

Apparently not to them. It's abnormal, it's "sick."

I don't know about them, but I feel perfectly fine, far from sick. Hell, I couldn't even GET sick anymore. What they worried about were hookers, murderers, child molesters, etc. But people who skin other people for satisfaction seemed to _surprise_ them.

I scoffed, wishing I can close my eyes. They all saw it in horror movies, therefore it shouldn't be so surprising. Apparently it was too hard to believe such an action. I'm not the first, even though I wish I was.

"Insane" is rather an odd word to describe me. Where I come from, there is no such thing as "sanity." It's a line broken a long time ago, and everyone is free to cross it. It divides what's real with what's fun, and that border needed to broken in this place. It was all too formal and _boring._

Is this _really_ where Janice comes from? I felt my smile return on my imaginative face. Janice. Was she in this world at this moment or back at _home?_ I was probably all over the news by now. I hoped she would hear my name and coward by the mention of it, just like that kid in the Laughingstock Crew.

What his name again? Patch?

_Ooh,_ wait, Percy. Yeah, that's it. They would be dead by now from me if it weren't for that old man. My smile vanished at the thought of him. Pure hatred was what I felt for the man. Why couldn't he just let me have their skin like all my other victims? He never stopped me from trying _them,_ but why couldn't he let his own crew go?

It was all that little girl's fault. The man barely cared for Percy. _Why_ was he so overprotective of the girl? She was such a scared type. Just like everyone else where she comes from.

I shook the thoughts off of _them._ What I should be focusing on is to get my damn accessories back. The so-called "doctors" wouldn't give it back until I addressed them who I was.

During my little "conversations" with them, I never had talked. They acted _friendly_ towards me. Saying: _"We just want to talk, we can become friends."_

I laughed at the thought. How many times was THAT repeated? I wasn't stupid. Talking is no ounce of affection towards such a relationship. Not even as "friends." I had no friends. I wanted no friends. I _needed_ no friends. Being alone is much more better than having someone care for you.

Alone is good, yes. Independent is good, yes. Not having "friends." The only person that was even close to get me to caring was probably no one. Not even Horace got me to care, no matter how many times he may get me to think otherwise.

The "doctors" would ask: _"Where are you from?" "Who are you?" "Do you still have your voice?" "Are you uncomfortable?_"

I remain silent, just like the room. Who are they to ask so many questions when they don't even know my name? No one knows my name. I go by what people know me for. What makes me known.

Of course, I have a million of restraints on me and guards by my side whenever I'm in a room. When they leave me alone without restraints, someone dies. I don't know where they get the idea of me doing it, since they always see them without skin.

So, I'm always forced to hear their stupid questions that are left unanswered. I want to rip their flesh straight off their bones, but that'd be unnecessary. THEY have MY suit, where I PUT it all on, so I would be left with nothing but skin that would fall onto the floor. Pathetic.

The only time they'd get a single pipe out of me is when they ask a recurring question I've heard so many times before. _"Why does your jaw move back and forth like that?"_

And I just grin before replying, "TO GRIND YOUR SKIN!"

Then the guards would have to hold me from jumping up or breaking from the restraints, which HAS happened before. The doctors would show no expression but write something down.

See? Friends show no betrayal, and they show lots of it. It's why I show no care for anyone nor trust. That'd be too easy to break.

And I am NOT easy to break. It's why I enjoy breaking others. It's much more fun.

I see other members like me in this "prison." It's rare for them to see me without a straight jacket, but I always tend to slip it off. I'm already thin to a bone, and I rather prefer no excess clothing on me. It's unnecessary if I have nothing to show, so I never wear a shirt nor pants. And the clothing they stuck on me goes right against that.

It's not like I can't rip it off, I just don't want to drive any more suspicions than I already have. I want to leave the place, but yet it's more comforting than facing an old man with a 7-year old and a coward on his crew.

Whenever I see these other fellow "members," they always tend to judge me. They call me scrawny, big-eyed, almost anything to piss me off. They don't know what I'm there for because no one knows who I am, so I'm only to just smile.

Well, I can only tell you this, they weren't able to save their skin, which is why I'm separated from all them. The guards tend to relate me to this "Joker" person. And, honestly, he sounds normal compared to this place.

I slowly rocked back and forth, staring right back into the darkness. Movement is comforting, no matter what situation you're in. Silence, thinking, and movement. Very comforting, yes.

I slipped off the straightjacket as I then stretched, hearing the crack of my bones in doing so. If they really think they can keep the Skin Taker cornered, they have another thing coming. But, for now, I think I'll just play the waiting game until they recognize the different DNA stored inside each skin sewn onto my cape and/or top hat.

Then I'll make my action.

But, for now: Silence, thinking, and movement.


	2. Epilogue

Tolerance. I had absolutely none to spare when they started dragging me out of my silent room, not even giving me information as to where they would lead me. Forceful, yes. But, I couldn't blame them. Last time when they tried asking me if I would like to go somewhere, I nearly had clawed their eyes out when they dared to look me in the eye.

I let them drag me. It wasn't common for them to take me out of there, since they seemed to have tried to prevent any contact with me in any way. I smirked at the thought. Humans were so naïve. I'm a skeleton, I don't need food, but they give me it anyway. I don't need any medication, but they try anyway. I don't need any treatment, but they give it anyway. I don't need conversations, but yet they try to make me talk anyway.

They're stubborn, yes. Quite impatient when they are proved wrong or get no response. Easy observations. They try to act rough, when, in reality, they're dead afraid. They choose to not to be proven wrong when wanting to be right. To show that they care, when, in reality,

They don't.

And really, I don't give a crap if they try to act like they care to me or not. I know the answer already. If you haven't noticed, it's quite easy to read them out. Just by their expressions and actions, sometimes even words, but that's an action already.

Too bad that they can't return the same to me. All except my actions, which I haven't provided much.

Soon enough I had felt them strap me to a chair. At first, I thought it was an electric chair and would have encouraged them, but it ended up being a lame, ordinary one. Disappointment washed over me as they forced me into it, restraining me to it. I had been left in the straightjacket, but it would take more time to slip out of it, resulting in all the restraint weighing it down.

I glanced up, only to end up in eye contact. I immediately had looked back down, watching them finish their job of sticking me to the chair. I wanted to use my legs to push it back or forward, but it seemed the chair was nailed to the ground.

Well, son of a bitch.

One of them had glanced up and said a few words to the person across from me. I really paid no attention, observing the nails and how tight they had been. Maybe with a little strength I could-

**SLAM!**

The figure seemed to jump at the noise as I just paid no attention to it. Everyone here had such a negative attitude, so them with metal doors were no difference. An awkward cough had intruded my thoughts. "Mr...uh...?"

I slowly looked from the nails, ending up to make eye contact again. The figure jumped again, startled. I just tsked. They always found me repulsive.

But, then again, they never looked in the mirrors themselves.

I took the silence to observe the figure. It was a female, yes. With blonde hair and brown eyes. A bit odd, but yet again I was judging myself to judge her. She was very pale as the one light in the small room had bounced off her skin, making it appear to glow.

I felt myself smile. Her skin looked so sensitive and fresh. So easy to grind. So easy to rip off to he bare bone and feel the smooth texture of it. Blood staining every ounce of it, making it look appealing to-

"M...Mr. Uh..." She repeated, looking over her papers that clung onto the clipboard she carried.

Oh, great, she was a "doctor."

Just to my luck.

She hesitated as she read some words. Slowly looking back up at me, she stuttered. "S-Skin Taker?"

I just cocked my head to the side, not exactly giving her an answer. Taking this silence, she then nervously changed her position on the chair. She seemed far away to me from this long, unnecessary table.

Looks like I have no choice but to listen to the blonde idiot.

Or I can leap out of the restraints and use my sharp fingers to claw some of her skin off, or to at least make her bleed. Yes, that would seem more appropriate. Hearing her plead for mercy, just for me to stop and suddenly the pain would go away.

A situation I've all been too familiar with.

She coughed, breaking the silence. My eyes were transfixed on her, watching her every move, when I was actually just thinking. She then spoke, "I'm here to try and help you feel comfortable again to actually regain some confidence locked inside of you to speak to..."

Then she went on and on and on and ON. If it's one thing I can't stand, it's a chatterbox. Women just can't learn to shut up, can they!?

I twitched, trying to blank her voice out. She seemed to notice this and jumped again, thinking I was going to break out of my restraints and kill her.

I resisted the urge to smile. Not yet. But, seriously, if she wanted to help me, she'd stop jumping at the sight of me.

If she wanted to see repulsive, she should've met Horace.

She regained her posture, sitting up in a more professional manner. "Oh, how rude of me. I forgot to introduce myself." She looked to me and gave me a fake smile.

I resisted the urge to rip it straight off her face.

"I'm Doctor Mary, Mary Stewart." She introduced with a warm smile.

I shifted my position, all focus on her, actually listening. That name...why was it so...

My eyes had widened in realization. Janice.

She gave a fake cough. "Well, I earned my degree in-"

"Do you recall anyone by the name of Janice Stewart?" I suddenly asked, catching her off guard.

She looked surprise, "Huh?"

I rolled my eyes, realizing my words came out faster than I had meant. "You heard me."

She seemed to eye my jaw, observing as it moved in a different position. I hoped she wouldn't ask, knowing it was the first thing they'd question.

Mary made eye contact with me again. "My...my niece?"

I was silent. There could've been at least 50 Janice Stewarts in the world. What part in this world was I in, anyway?

"Y-You mean the one who loves pirates?" She suspiciously asked.

I grinned. She only jumped more, seeming to be startled by it.

Hmm. I wonder what her expression would be if I stabbed her. Only one way to find ou-

"H-How do you know her?" She suddenly asked, re-gaining confidence.

I remained silent. Here she was, in front of a murderer who skins people and sews it on for an outfit and looks inhuman, nevertheless who talks with their jaw in grinding motion, only to realize that this total stranger knows who her 6-7 year old niece is.

No, no suspicion at all.

Hearing no response, she hesitated before asking, eyes wide with fear, "D-Did you kill her?"

I ended up laughing quite loudly, hearing it echo in the room. She nearly fell out of her chair at the sudden reaction. I then leaned back so I was able to see the ceiling. I still had been laughing, no hesitation at all. She nervously laughed along, too, hoping to fit in with the noise.

I then looked straight back at her, re-positioning myself. "Not yet."

Mary's smile had been wiped off her face, now staring at me with horror. I felt like laughing again at this, but restrained myself.

Now, that seemed as an over-exaggeration, now did it?

She slowly looked back to the clip board, re-positioning herself as she did so. While she was busy, I then observed her attire. She was wearing a white lab coat, like any other doctor, and her blonde hair had been put up in a ponytail. She looked quite ordinary, but from her actions, she really reminded me of Janice.

No different reactions, eh?

She then set the clipboard onto the table, the noise echoing from the silence in the room. My eyes traveled to the floor, showing no interest in her actions. She seemed to focus on me, her elbows leaning onto the table, leaning forward. I then looked back at her, making eye contact yet once again.

She didn't jump, but flinched a little. I felt a bit disappointed. She then said in a quiet tone, "How about we play a game?"

I didn't move, react, or flinch. Seeing this, she spoke again, "A word game."

Still no reaction.

"Where I say a word, then you say a word that first jumps into your mind."

Hmm. This might be interesting. "Continue." I said in a quiet tone, barely strong enough to hear.

She nodded, then looked at the table in thought. She seemed to piece her thoughts together, then looked up, looking me straight in the eye.

"Skin." She announced out of nowhere.

I grinned. "Take."

She raised a brow, switching my words around. "Take?"

"Kill."

A pause.

"Pain?"

"Suffer."

"Love?"

I replied with no hesitation, "Betrayal."

"Knife?"

"Stab."

She then asked slowly, "Janice?"

I grinned. "Kill."

I heard her gulp. "Family?"

"Kill."

"Human?"

"Selfish."

"You?"

"Me."

I knew she would have rolled her eyes at that, but she did nothing.

"Emotion?"

"Waste."

"Friends?"

"Betrayal."

"Food?"

"Human flesh."

She looked a bit disgusted, but shrugged it off.

"Enemy?"

"Laughingstock Crew."

"Who is the Laughingstock Crew?" She suddenly asked, confused.

"Now, Mary," I said her name in pure disgust. "I thought this was a word game."

She flinched, but nodded.

"Me?"

"Stupid."

She looked insulted. I just gave her a look.

"Skeleton?"

"Inside."

"Puppet?"

"Marionette."

"Blood?"

I grinned. "Delicious."

Her jaw opened for a split second, but she immediately closed it.

"School?"

"Retarded."

"Help?"

"Unnecessary."

"Sad?"

"Happy."

"Skin Taker?"

"Subtle."

She gave me a look, which I had returned, making her jump again.

"Home?"

"Candle Cove."

She opened her mouth for a second, but closed it the next. I just cocked my head, amused. She then grabbed her clipboard and began writing information down.

Looks like someone got on my naughty list pretty quick.

I grit my teeth, which had caught her attention. She nervously fidgeted with her pen. "I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"

I remained silent but tilted my head back. The bitch seemed no different than everyone else, except she got me to speak. No matter. They'll be confused, yes. I doubt there is such a place named 'Candle Cove' from where I'm at.

She stopped writing and looked at me, which I can feel, but I didn't bother to look back at her. She then asked in a quiet tone, "Are you angry?"

I resisted the urge to smile.

You. Have. No. Fucking. Idea.

I started to question my own patience and tolerance. Normally by now I'd be on edge and on top of "Mary's" body, cutting her flesh off with my bare fingers and grinding it with my jaw, devouring the taste of it along with the excess blood dripping from each scrap of the layer. But now here I was, sitting in front of her while she writes information about me that they'll use to turn on me.

I then looked back at her, which she had continued writing. I ended up staring at her hand, which had constantly moved to write the different letters of each word. I started to imagine with it dripping in blood, which would drip right onto the paper, staining the thin sheet and blocking out the information.

I smiled. Yes, that's exactly what I'm going to do. I didn't even realize my actions getting ahead of me, already loose in my straightjacket, with the restraints begging to fly off already. She was oblivious to this as she continued to observe her written words. She then asked, not removing her eyes from the paper, "So, ending the game, what exactly is this 'Candle Cove' like?"

I quickly had halted my arms and legs from moving as she glanced at me. I didn't say anything, knowing I already had spilt enough information. She then started talking again, but I completely had blanked out, wishing I can just close my eyes.

That'd be a lot peaceful, yes.

She didn't seem to hear loud repetitive footsteps coming down from the corridor and into the hallway. I listened very closely, Mary's voice just being an excess background noise. The steps were solid, hard, and stiff, and I can recognize that there were more than 2 feet making their way towards the room. They belonged to guards, but yet a different pair of steps were rather light compared and more faster.

I smirked as I looked back to Mary, who seemed oblivious to even the noise. The door had ended being pushed open, with another "doctor" looking around the room. I looked back at him, noting how the look on his face was rather frantic and stressed, meaning nothing other than an unexpected realization.

Two guards appeared being him, giving me cold glares. If I had eyelids, I would've blinked.

Mary appeared to have stopped talking because the room became dead silent. If only the dead part were true. She then nervously asked, "Y-Yes, Dr. Lucas?"

My eyes had slowly slid down to see what he had gripped in his hand. It was my own hat and cape, with some of the skin scraps missing. I smirked, seeing how they finally had registered the details behind it. Dr. Lucas rushed over to Mary and had whispered some things to her.

The guards' eyes were locked onto me, and I looked back at them. They both flinched, which meant that they weren't as tough as they had meant to look. This only made a smile appear on my "face" in sheer amusement. It was until Dr. Lucas called the guards over that they stopped looking at me.

"I'm afraid we have no other choice but to-" The he glanced in my direction, but ended up realizing the chair was empty, with the restraints and straight jacket hanging loose.

All of their eyes had widened, looking at the unoccupied chair. "Where'd he go?" Mary asked, breaking the silence. Dr. Lucas had looked down, realizing that the top hat and cape in his grip were no longer there as well.

The last thing I remembered hearing was his shouting about some alarm, sirens going off, but that was all pushed aside as I had ran through the air vents and out of the place, returning home afterwards.

Because, hey, who needs therapy when you got skin?


End file.
